


Bloodletting

by canyoutastethewaste



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Dark Dean, Demon Blood, Demon Dean, Disembowelment, Fucked Up, Gut-Fucking, Hurt Castiel, Knives, M/M, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:29:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6392428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canyoutastethewaste/pseuds/canyoutastethewaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's dwindling grace leaves him easy prey for Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodletting

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [任其血流](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8400193) by [canyoutastethewaste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canyoutastethewaste/pseuds/canyoutastethewaste), [InnocentDays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnocentDays/pseuds/InnocentDays)



> So I haven't written in years. What a way to make a comeback. Feedback and critique welcomed and encouraged. And in case you haven't read the tags... this is a really dark, really gross little fic.

"Oh, Cas... you really bit off more than you can chew with this." The voice is Dean's, yes, but there's an ugly edge to the words that sends a small shiver through the angel's tense body. They sound almost foreign to him, oily and hollow.

  
They are in the middle of some podunk town in Iowa, a cozy little run-down motel located a good five miles from the nearest interstate. Dean was all winks and charm when he asked for the room, the middle-aged woman behind the desk not lifting her eyes from her Harlequin romance as she handed the key over.

  
Cas had only wanted to help cure Dean. He had traveled God knows how far on the fumes of his dwindling grace, only to be caught off guard and easily overpowered. He hadn't even tried to fight. Dean was too strong, too quick, too... Dean.

  
Now, Cas finds himself standing in the doorway of the room's small bathroom, arms stretched above his head, hands bound together, stripped nude. Dean always was handy, and with a few stray pieces of rope and the proper sigils painted around him, Cas is bound in place, restrained hands tied haphazardly from the top of the door frame. Dean is somewhere behind him; he can hear him clearly enough, but no matter how he tries to turn his head, he can't quite catch a glimpse of him. "Dean, please.. whatever you're going to do..."

  
"Shut up." Cas winces at the sharpness of the command. Dean is now directly behind him, trailing his fingers down the skin of Cas' back. The gentleness of the touch is almost enough to get Cas to plea with Dean again, but Dean speaks, a hot, harsh whisper against the back of Cas' neck. "Just listen to me, and you'll be okay, Angel." He continues to run his fingers along Cas' skin, down the taut muscles of his back, circling them around to his stomach, sliding down to teasingly brush his palm over the curve of Cas' dick. Instinctively, Cas jerks his hips back from the touch, but again Dean is too quick, his hand suddenly around Cas' throat, wrenching his head back.

  
" _Dean_ ," he pleads, crying out as Dean's fingers tighten up around his jaw, inhumanly strong. He can see the side of his face now: black eyes peering at him, furrowed and fuming.

  
"I said shut up." The first cut was so quick, the blade so sharp, Cas didn't even have time to react, but the second one drew a sharp cry from him as the blade pressed up under his rib cage. The cuts are deep, and blood begins to well up at the incisions, trickling down his skin in bright rivulets. Dean is in front of him now, face darkening despite his spreading smile. The blade flicks out again, this time across his chest; he wants to scream, tries to scream, but Dean was pressing the length of his body against him now, teeth crashing into his lips in a vulgar mockery of a kiss. Cas feels the hard bulge in the front of Dean's jeans pressing against his thigh, and he frantically tries to twist away from him, eyes wide, tears beginning well up.

  
Again Dean's hands are sliding down his chest and stomach, smearing the blood down until his hand is slick and wet. He gives Cas a sharp squeeze around his cock, snickering as Cas gives a small whimper. All too quickly Dean's belt is undone, his fly undone, the jeans sliding lazily down around his thighs. "You ready, Angel?" He coos the words, cupping Cas' cheek in his blood-smeared palm. "It's gonna hurt." His thumb slides over Cas' bottom lip for a brief moment before he slips behind the angel's shivering body, stroking his cock, slicking it up with blood.

  
Cas isn't sure what happens first; all at once Dean is inside him in one forceful, unforgiving thrust, and the blade is buried to the hilt in his stomach. Shock, most likely, is all that keeps him from screaming for his life, and all he can do is shudder as Dean buries his face into the crook of his neck, thrusting forward and pulling the knife in one sharp motion across Cas' abdomen. "Fuck," Dean hisses, yanking the knife from Cas' body in a spray of deep crimson, spattering over the off-white tile, gushing down the front of the angel. Everything is hazy and cold; Cas doesn't even realize Dean is smashing his wrist against his lips, the acidic feel of demon blood washing over his tongue and down his throat, spurting hot and sticky from the jagged gash Dean slashed into his wrist. Distantly, he hears the knife clatter onto the ground before Dean grabs him roughly by the hips, slamming into him over and over.

  
It's an odd feeling, one's intestines slipping out slowly from their proper place, ropy and slimy. Even odder, feeling Dean's fingers working their way up inside of the bloody mess, pushing past them, down into his gut. The pain suddenly flares as Dean shoves his hand down, fingers wrenching and pulling, twisting and tearing through the viscera to curl around his own cock, throbbing and pulsing. Cas screams now, the throaty, primitive shrieks of a prey animal as teeth close around its throat, and Dean only laughs as Cas' body spasms and jerks around him. The demon blood is an effective method to counteract the dying grace; a human would have been dead by now from shock alone.

  
The entire bathroom floor is red now, a blackish, ugly color, spattered up onto the sink, the tank of the toilet. _The carpet must be ruined_ , Cas thinks hysterically, and then suddenly his cock is achingly hard, his eyes wide and wild as the demon blood courses through his veins, and he can't stop himself from grinding back against Dean. Dean, who is literally turning him inside out. Dean, who bites down into the tender flesh on the side of Cas' neck, hard enough to draw more blood, snarling as the rhythm he's establish staggers. He comes hard, his hand squeezing and squelching around the soft tissue and fat head of his cock. 

  
Cas' eyes roll back into his skull, his entire body going slack as Dean slides back out of him, blood and cum dripping down his thighs; Dean slowly slides his hand from where he had worked it nearly up to the elbow inside Cas' gut. The angel's breathing has gone ragged and sparse, his normally tan skin a pasty white, practically corpse flesh, and Dean presses a soft kiss against the back of his neck, sliding his arm up to press his slashed wrist against Cas' lips again.

  
"Drink up, Angel. It's going to be a long night."


End file.
